


Vulnerable

by LaMepriseFangirl



Series: The Aftermath of Michael [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Arc: Alternate Michael (Supernatural: All Along the Watchtower) Possessing Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: Michael may be gone, but Sam still has to deal with his brother recovering from being possessed, and the fact that feelings he's kept secret for years aren't unrequited after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just need to write a fic where Sam and Dean _don't_ go from "OMG I thought I was a sick freak" to rimming in 30 seconds.
> 
> This wasn't beta'd, so there are probably some mistakes.

Sam has won, except he has no idea what to do now.

Michael has been taken care of. They've already sent back all of the people who wanted to return to their original universe—Jack went with them. He promised to come back someday.

Most importantly, Sam has his brother back. Sort of.

Dean isn't talking much. Being an archangel's vessel took a toll on him, of course, but there's also the fact that Michael revealed a piece of information about Dean that he had kept secret for a long, long time.

Sam doesn't blame him. He had the same secret. He thought he was alone.

But as it turns out, the nasty incestuous feelings that he taught himself to ignore are returned after all.

That was some fucking bombshell. Michael was planning on using that information against them, to weaken them, but Sam told him he honestly didn't care because he felt the same way.

Confounding Michael with that was just the distraction Sam needed to activate the sigil that gave Dean a chance to take control and eject the archangel. Every step of the plan fell into place after that, and that was the end of Michael's terrifying presence.

The problem is that now, Dean absolutely will not talk about it.

On one hand, Sam wouldn't mind pretending he didn't learn that. Just go on pretending they're mostly normal brothers, _not_ adding to the list of felonies they've committed. No need to complicate things, maybe alienate people they love. What would _Mom_ think? He cringes to think about it.

But... if Dean feels the same way, if the two of them both want the other and have for years, why shouldn't they?

*

"Hey." Sam finds his brother in his room.

Dean looks up from his phone. He seems... distant.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Sam jerks his head in the direction of his room. "Your pick."

His brother shrugs in agreement.

"Great, I'll grab us a couple beers."

"No, I'll grab 'em," Dean says.

"Sure," is all Sam can say in a normal voice. He turns away to hide his smile. That's the most spontaneous thing Dean has said in the weeks since he got back. This is _progress._

*

What Sam realizes by the time they start the movie is that Dean got the beers just so he could open one for Sam. He's frustrated with being taken care of, especially by his younger brother.

Dean wants to get back to normal, and his normal is hunting, being in charge, and taking care of Sam. He doesn't do mental recuperation, except he's so out of it he isn't even arguing about Sam driving places.

There's no getting around it; he keeps having moments when he's definitely not there. Sometimes he'll drop whatever's in his hands.

Even while they watch his favorite Clint Eastwood movie, Dean keeps spacing out, then snapping back to reality. They're sitting next to each other on the bed, and Sam glances over every once in a while to check on Dean.

Despite all these dissociative moments, despite the new awkwardness between them, Sam can't help but feel happy with life. His brother is back, at least physically.

The movie ends, and Dean is lucid for the moment. He catches Sam looking at him.

"You're not trynna Netflix and chill me, are you?"

"No," Sam laughs uncomfortably, though he's thrilled that Dean is communicating verbally again. "You're not even up to telling me what you wanna eat half the time, let alone talking about... that."

"Let's get something straight, Sam. Even if I wasn't a few french fries short of a Happy Meal, we wouldn't be talking about it."

"Why not?"

"Because... we can't do that. Be together."

It doesn't hurt to hear that, since Sam has believed it for years, but he feels the fresh sliver of hope, the only hope he'd ever had when it came to this, disappearing.

"You think that after everything, we don't deserve to have something we both want?"

"It's not that we haven't earned it, Sam," Dean answers, "It's just..."

Sam could swear his brother is an inch or two closer than he was, and he's absolutely certain that Dean is looking at his mouth.

This is what he's wanted for years, told himself he could never have, and now... is this really happening?

There's no mistaking what Dean is considering, so Sam leans in ever so slightly. He'll leave the final inches between them for Dean to close.

His older brother's face is getting closer, and this feels like a fantasy Sam never let himself play out. Though he's thought about this a thousand times, he was too ashamed of his desires to let his mind imagine the possibilities.

With only centimeters between them, Sam tilts his head slightly and closes his eyes. Dean should decide what happens next; he would want to feel in control of the situation.

Nothing happens.

After about ten seconds, Sam peeks at his brother. Dean is staring into nothing. He's checked out again.

Yeah, he's in no state to discuss this, let alone consent to anything. Sam is a little embarrassed about his own eagerness, but he decides they're best off pretending that didn't almost happen.

Sam pulls away and then gently touches Dean's arm.

"Dean."

Startled, Dean jumps a little. He looks around, and calms down when he sees Sam next to him.

"Sorry," he says. "Wish that'd stop happening."

"Are you conscious when you're like that?" Sam asks.

"I dunno, it's like my brain forgets I'm not possessed anymore. I remember what I saw and heard afterwards, but when it's happening, it's like I'm stuffed in some back corner while something else takes up the rest of the space in my head, even though nothing's in me."

Sam nods. He's read about this; he suspected that's what his brother was experiencing.

"That's normal for survivors of long-term possession."

"Will it stop?"

"Eventually, yeah." Sam pauses, and then adds from personal experience, "So will the nightmares."

"I don't have nightmares." Dean gets to his feet, unwilling to be comforted any longer.

Sam's heard his brother screaming at night, so that's a lie.

"Dean, you might be fine physically, but you need to give your mind time to heal."

"I get that." His brother is looking away, and he seems to be fighting an inner conflict. Finally he asks:

"That never happened to you, did it? The spacing out thing?"

"No. Meg, Lucifer, Gadreel, none of them were in control for very long."

He hopes that Dean will open up then, maybe talk about things that he saw Michael do, but no dice.

"...Good night, Sam."

"Night."

Sam watches his brother leave the room. Dean just hates being vulnerable around him. He's gotten better over the years, but this isn't a single conversation or a night of maudlin drinking. This is going to be weeks of not being himself, being unable to hide how broken he feels.

*

The day comes when Dean is mentally present enough to want to "get back out there."

Sam nervously gives him the keys to the car, but puts his foot down when Dean tries to throw him a case.

"When you go a full twenty-four hours without having an episode, then we can hunt monsters. You still get them every day, and that's the ones I know about. ...You're not driving alone anywhere, either."

Dean doesn't seem to care; he's just happy to be behind the wheel again, even if it is just ten minutes to the grocery store.

In the checkout line, Sam watches his brother flirt with the woman behind them in line. He sighs to himself, exasperated but resigned.

And maybe a little hurt. Sam gave up on feeling jealous years ago, but now that he knows his brother _does_ want him that way, it sucks watching Dean flirt with someone else.

They're halfway home before they exchange words again.

"You're awful quiet all of a sudden," Dean remarks.

"...I've been watching you pick up girls for the past twenty-something years. Since before I-"

"Sam, don't."

"You wanted to know why I was quiet."

Dean can't argue about that.

"What do you want, Sam?" he asks a moment later.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, if you want to... cross that line, I'll do it. God knows I _want_ to. I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Then we won't. No is no," Sam shrugs.

"Okay, then, we should just forget that we ever found out. We go back to the way things were."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The car is quiet for about five seconds before Sam can't take it.

"It's just stupid if we both feel this way and we don't do anything about it!"

"What will everyone think?"

"We can keep it a secret."

"Cas will figure it out."

"Cas won't care. Since when do _you_ care what people think, anyway?"

"What if it doesn't work out?" Dean tries next.

"Why would it not work out?"

"We might be... incompatible."

"'Incompatible'?" This is bullshit, Sam thinks. Dean is avoiding the real issue, whatever it is.

"Maybe I'm into some stuff that you're not into."

Sam stares at his brother, brows furrowed.

"Nobody who gets laid as often as you do—or used to—can be that weird."

"What if _you're_ into weird stuff?"

"Trust me, I'm not into anything weird." Other than his own brother, Sam qualifies in his head.

Dean swallows nervously.

"What are you into?"

Sam feels his heart stop. His brother is asking him about what he likes in bed?

They're almost back to the bunker before Sam musters up the courage to answer.

"S- sometimes I like to be rough with my partner."

"...Oh," Dean says softly.

"I like to be in charge," Sam continues, gaining some confidence. "Usually I want to take her clothes off."

Dean parks the car outside the front entrance to the bunker. It's too quiet and Sam is entertaining more thoughts about what he'd like to do to his brother than he has in years. Dean must be doing the same, thinking of whatever he wants to do to Sam.

Sam's eyes move over his brother's body. There's a definite bulge in his jeans. Holy shit. Sam could move a few feet over right now and...

Dean would let him unzip his jeans, he would let Sam touch him, he would touch Sam.

Not yet, Sam thinks, but if he asks the same question about what Dean likes in bed, his brother will keep thinking about it, maybe become more comfortable with the idea.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his brother beats him to it.

"So is that why you hate strip clubs?" Dean asks, breaking some of the tension.

"No, I-"

"All this time, I thought you just didn't like women 'degrading' themselves."

"I don't!" Though he scowls, Sam is somewhat relieved that his brother found a way out of the situation.

*

Dean isn't right in the head at the moment, Sam reminds himself. He's still recovering from being possessed. The last thing he needs is someone pressuring him into sex.

On the other hand, it is Dean. Dean doesn't give mixed signals even if his dick does. It doesn't matter how turned on he gets; if he doesn't want Sam to touch him, he'll make that obvious. If he's good with it, Sam will know.

A few more days pass. Dean convinces Sam that he's up to hunting.

They find a case that _looks_ like it should be a milk run—a couple of suspicious deaths in a family that lost a member to what was ruled suicide not too long ago. To Nebraska, then.


	2. Chapter 2

Miracle of miracles, the case is as easy as it looked. They check into the motel before noon and have the case solved by midnight. They find the graveyard, dig up the grave, and burn the body without serious incident.

"Wish more of our jobs were that easy," Dean says as he hands Sam a beer. He sits on the couch next to him. They opted to spend the night at the motel, since they paid for it, plus there's always a chance they missed something.

"Me, too."

They clink bottles before each taking a sip.

Dean sets his bottle down, and then he goes still.

"Dean?"

That blank expression is back. Sam touches his brother's arm.

"Dean."

No response, which is unusual.

His brother probably can't perceive anything right now, but he'll remember, so Sam moves a little closer, looking at his face.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm right here."

It lasts a long time, and Sam begins to worry. Usually he can snap Dean out of it, and if he doesn't, these "absent spells" don't last more than about thirty seconds at a time. It's been almost two minutes before Dean shakes his head and shudders.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You've never been out that long."

"It's like that at night sometimes when I'm tired," Dean dismisses.

"It's almost two. You should get some sleep."

"You're not my mother," Dean grumbles, picking up his beer.

Without further conversation, Sam finishes his drink. He reaches over to leave it on the side table and only then realizes he's still awfully close to his brother. He was concerned for those two minutes and kind of forgot to give Dean his personal space back.

He also notices that Dean is looking at his face.

"What?"

"Just hit me that we've lost each other so many times, literally been through Hell and worse, but we're still hunting together, staying in shitty motels, and driving that car around. And we've been doing this since you were like twelve."

Sam smiles a little.

"With any luck, we'll be doing it for a few more years."

Dean's eyes flicker over his face, and settle on his mouth.

This time, Sam refuses to be passive. The fact is that both of them want this, and they've been through so much that he refuses to believe they don't deserve to be happy together.

He's going to take this, then.

He touches his brother's face, and leans in, feeling like he's sixteen and shy again, but _knowing_ this is the right thing to do.

He remembers dreaming of this years ago when they were so much younger, being so afraid of what Dean would think or do. Nothing about it scares him now, except maybe for how much time they've wasted. His brother's age is beginning to show in the lines around his eyes. They've started to grow _old_ together, Sam marvels.

Dean tilts his head slightly and closes his eyes as Sam's lips meet his.

Happier than he can even remember being before, Sam can't help but smile against his brother's mouth. He's wished a hundred thousand times he could do this, give that gesture of affection, support, and never dared. Just imagining Dean's reaction always stopped him.

Turns out, what Dean does in response is kiss back, softly at first, but gaining momentum as he reaches up to smooth Sam's hair back.

They never break apart. Just the touch of Dean's lips gives Sam a high. This is a chance to make Dean feel wanted, loved, needed, showing his brother that he's worth everything, that he deserves to be happy.

Sam can't get enough of Dean's mouth. He needs... all of his brother. His jeans are getting tight, and if he could only reach over, reach down, he's positive he would feel the same thing happening to Dean.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to take more, let his hands move, touch all of the body that he's craved for so, so long. Dean said he wants to, so why can't they?

Dean is the one to break the kiss, but he doesn't pull away. He's even smiling.

"Now what?" he asks.

"Tell me what you want, Dean."

"I don't know."

Sam rests his hand on Dean's knee.

"You have to want something right now."

When Dean puts his hand over Sam's, he kisses him again.

This is the best night of his life, Sam thinks. He dares to move his hand up about an inch, paying close attention to whether Dean encourages it or resists.

He's encouraging it. He's guiding Sam closer.

When Sam's fingers encounter Dean's cock, hard and trapped in his pants, Dean gasps softly.

Sam deepens the kiss as he runs his hand over the warm bulge, palming it. Yes, he thinks,  _yes,_ this is exactly what he wants, to feel his brother, taste his mouth... He's so hard it hurts now; he needs relief. Surely Dean will say yes now. If he's letting Sam grope him, he has to be ready for more.

"Dean, tell me what you want," he begs between soft kisses to his brother's jaw.

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? Say you want this with me."

"I do."

Shutting his eyes, Sam thinks he might just die of happiness. He can't wait to really, really touch Dean, to feel Dean's hands on his body. He sucks on Dean's throat a little and presses closer, practically on top of his brother.

"Say you want this with me right now," he pleads.

Even in the haze of desire, even with Dean's arm pulling him closer, the pause before Dean replies catches Sam's attention.

"...Yes," Dean whispers.

Sam pulls back, sensing reluctance. The way Dean is looking at him—guilt, reverence, want, a trace of fear—puts some reason back into Sam's head.

"Are you sure?"

"I do want you, Sam," Dean insists.

"If you don't want to cross that line right now, we won't." Sam hates to put physical space between himself and Dean again, but he has to. He sees some relief on his brother's face, which is a little alarming considering that Dean was going to lie and say he was ready for this when he apparently isn't.

It makes no sense. Dean, of all people, suddenly getting shy and blueballing both of them? Is this the same person Sam has needed, wanted, saved, and fought? The same person who'd hook up with a girl in a back alley twenty minutes after meeting her? Dean "Just rolling through town, no strings attached" Winchester is passing up sex? Sam tries to come up with a reasonable explanation for the out-of-character behavior, but there are too many variables, from the fact that Sam is a guy to the risk of Dean's autonomy randomly shutting down to the span of months where god knows what happened while Dean was possessed. 

Just forget it, Sam thinks. No is no, and that's the end of it for now.

"I gotta cool off," he mumbles, and gets up with a bit of a grimace.

By the time Sam gets out of the freezing cold shower he puts himself through, his brother is pretending to be asleep.

*

The next morning, Sam wakes up and sees his brother in the next bed, awake but disturbingly vacant.

"...Dean? Dean!" He almost gets out of bed to shake him, but when he remembers what happened last night he feels incredibly self-conscious about his morning wood.

Fortunately, Dean snaps out of it about thirty seconds later.

"I'm fine," he says irritably before Sam can ask.

"Does that also happen 'sometimes' in the morning?"

"When I wake up, yeah."

"Every time you wake up? ...Why didn't you tell me?"

Dean doesn't have a good answer.

Frustrated, Sam sighs and turns over. He should've known Dean was hiding that from him, that he's still getting those episodes of being 'absent' on a daily basis. At least these are predictable.

"Hey, Sam."

"What?"

"Last night..."

That gets Sam's attention. He turns back over to face his brother.

"What about it?"

"It got me wondering... how long have you felt that way?"

Dean must really, really not want to talk about himself if he's changing the subject to this, Sam thinks.

"Thirteen years," he answers. "I've wanted to do that for thirteen years."

He breaks eye contact, realizing what a coward he's been to hide something for over a decade. Maybe he should have lied, made it a little less pathetic. He'll ask Dean the same question and it'll be something reasonable like three years.

"Hey," his brother's voice says again, more softly. Dean waits for Sam to look at him again. "...That's how long I've wanted you to."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam is almost as lost as he was when he first learned the truth, except now he has a precious memory of kissing the one person he's truly wanted for years. It was everything he could have asked for. It felt _right_.

Eventually, he convinces himself it was a one-time thing. He can't even hope to have that again until Dean figures himself out.

*

It's only by accident that Sam overhears a conversation he absolutely was not supposed to hear, and finally gets an explanation for his brother's reluctance.

Dean sent him to pick up pizza; Sam brings it back to the bunker. He leaves it in the war room and heads to the kitchen where he assumes he'll find his brother.

As he approaches, he hears Castiel ask a question:

"Are you and Sam alright?"

Dean responds quickly:

"Yeah, why?"

"You've been avoiding each other for the past week."

"...That obvious, huh?"

There's a pause, like Cas is waiting for Dean to continue.

"Cas... you're our best friend. You're _my_ best friend."

"You can talk to me, Dean."

This is exactly the kind of conversation Sam knows better than to eavesdrop on, but he just has to know what's making Dean hesitate. If Dean tells anyone a truth he can't or won't tell Sam, it'd be to Cas.

"When Michael was wearing me, he told Sam a secret I'd never told anyone."

"Did it make Sam angry?"

"No, the opposite. It turned out he'd been hiding the exact same thing from me."

"Which was...?"

Sam holds his breath, wondering if Dean is really going to out them, and if so how.

Whatever Dean says, it's too quiet for Sam to make out, but it's a short sentence.

"Feelings as in sexual feelings," Castiel verifies in response.

Sam, although unseen in the hallway, feels his face getting hot. He can't imagine Dean's expression, but he apparently gives a silent affirmative.

"That must feel very awkward considering the taboo against incest," the angel says, attempting empathy.

Yes, Cas, Sam thinks. Yes it does.

"What did you do?" Castiel asks next.

"What did we do? Nothing. I have no fucking idea what to do, Cas."

"I don't see any reason you shouldn't have sex with Sam if you find each other attractive," he says in the most absurdly innocent way. "You'll have my discretion."

"...Uh, thanks, I guess."

"What's wrong? What's stopping you?"

 A few suspenseful seconds pass before Dean answers.

"Sometimes, when you sleep with somebody, you start seeing them differently. Because in bed they're not the same person they are the rest of the time."

"It sounds like you're afraid of your relationship with Sam changing."

"No, I just don't want my brother to see me like that."

Oh, Sam thinks. That explains why Dean Winchester, the man who's gotten laid in every one of the contiguous United States, is suddenly nervous about taking things further. It's about his image, and how he thinks Sam views him.

"Like what?"

"...Like I am in bed."

"Well..." Castiel seems to have finally, finally, _finally_ developed a concept of TMI when he's obliged to ask, "what are you like in bed?"

Although Sam is more than curious about how his brother would describe himself in bed, he stops listening. He's about to die from second-hand embarrassment himself.

He creeps back a few feet and then approaches again, raising his voice:

"Dean, I'm back!"

He rounds the corner to see Dean looking relieved at the interruption as Cas ponders something.

"Oh, hey," Sam greets as if surprised to see both of them. "Pizza's here."

Dean grabs three beers out of the fridge and heads for the war room. Cas does a fantastic job of pretending he hasn't just learned what he learned about the Winchesters.

*

Although it's been almost three weeks since the last time Sam caught his brother having a blank moment, Dean is still having nightmares sometimes.

Sam thinks he hears his brother calling his name late one night; he's outside Dean's bedroom door before he hears his voice again.

Whatever Dean is dreaming about, he's terrified and he's screaming for Sam.

Trying the door, he finds it unlocked and enters. He closes it behind him and goes to his brother's bedside. He shakes Dean gently.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean does wake up, but then he goes totally still and silent.

Sam turns on the lamp. He knew what he'd see, but it still jolts him to see Dean's expression so empty.

He sits on the side of the bed, watching over his brother. He won't leave until Dean tells him to.

Suddenly he has an idea and the right words come out:

"I know it must be hard for you, being seen like this. But I promise, Dean, you're still gonna be my big brother in the morning."

A minute passes, and then Dean is back. He sits up in bed, shuddering.

"Hey," Sam says.

"Hey. ...You woke me up."

"You were dreaming."

"...Yeah." He stares at his hands in his lap.

Sam waits.

"I was awake the whole time," Dean says finally. "I knew you'd come and save me, but then I'd see myself hurting somebody, and I thought, 'what if Sam shows up and I kill him?' Now, some nights, that's all I dream about."

"If Michael had tried to kill me, you would've stopped him."

"I couldn't stop anything he did, Sam. I couldn't even slow him down."

"I know." Sam reaches out to stroke his brother's cheek.

Leaning into the touch, Dean shuts his eyes. He's accepting comfort, letting Sam tell him it's going to be alright.

After a few seconds, Dean sighs a little, like he's been refreshed, regained some strength. Sam withdraws.

"It's been a long time since you called me your big brother," Dean comments.

"Been a long time since you called me your little brother," Sam points out. He wasn't displeased with that; he appreciated that he and Dean were getting better at seeing each other as equals. But sometimes, he admits, it's nice to fall back into the old familiar ways. Especially if they could be about to explore a very different dynamic.

Dean is the one to reach out now, drawing Sam's face closer to his.

They aren't shy this time; they kiss easily and comfortably. It's over far too soon, but it leaves Sam feeling like there isn't a thing wrong in the whole world. He's with Dean, and that makes everything exactly as it should be.

He leans his forehead against his brother's, the emotional intimacy translating to a desire for physical. Not now, he wishes he could tell his body.

It's not going to listen, not even when he tries to think about that reaper that's probably still spying on them. He wants his brother so badly, and they're alone together, and close.

"I should go," he says, dragging himself away. "I'm sorry."

Sam gets up, trying to be subtle about the tent of his sweatpants, though Dean says one more thing before he escapes:

"Thank you, Sam."

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yeah, I do."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam goes back to bed and lies awake in the dark. His heart is pounding; he has too many emotions flying around in his head. He's not hard anymore but he badly wants to indulge himself in fantasy.

Half an hour passes, and Sam is half-asleep when there's a single knock on the door, and then it opens.

Dean steals inside, closing the door behind him, and goes straight to Sam's bed.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asks, sitting up and turning on the lamp next to the bed.

Dean sits on top of the covers and takes a deep breath before speaking.

"You told me that... in bed, you like to be in charge."

"Yeah." Sam's heart is beating even faster and some of the blood is going somewhere he doesn't want it to go... yet.

"I like... letting someone else take charge. Letting someone make decisions for me. Letting them tell me what to do."

"Dean..."

"I like being everything I don't let myself be in front of you," Dean explains.

"You mean vulnerable."

"...Yeah, that."

"That's why you've been holding back."

"And because I don't want to be the one to say yes or no."

Breath catching in his throat, Sam hardly knows what to do. It's obvious why Dean is here, but at the same time, he can't believe this is happening.

He pushes the blanket aside and moves closer to Dean, holds his brother's face in his hands. He kisses him deeply, and he's found paradise on Earth.

"Lie down, Dean."

Dean lies on his back, and holds Sam close like the weight of his body is a comfort.

They kiss, feeling each other's bodies hardening in desire, and rub against each other, gasping as if they've never been touched before.

Sam pulls his shirt off, and then he does the same to Dean, and they hold each other, chest to chest, doing nothing but feel each other's warmth.

It's how Sam knows that this is right, when he and the person he's about to make love with can just lie there peacefully and let the anticipation build up a little.

This is his last first time with someone, he realizes.

He kisses Dean's face all over, working his way down to his brother's throat, where he begins to suck on the soft skin.

Dean buries one hand in Sam's hair, encouraging him, and uses the other to grope his ass. His cock twitches against Sam's thigh, and they both make little thrusts with their hips in turn. It isn't time yet for them to chase pleasure in earnest.

"Sammy..."

He lifts his head.

"Dean."

They look at each other, smiling almost shyly.

"I wanna see you," Dean says.

Sam sits up and tugs his sweatpants halfway down his thighs. He likes the way his brother's lips part at the sight of his cock. It's as if Dean is hungry for it.

"Let's take a look at you now," Sam says, taking hold of the waistband of Dean's sweats. He drags it down so slowly Dean rolls his hips to get some extra friction against the elastic as it keeps his cock pinned down. Finally Sam reaches the head, and Dean shifts again until his cock springs free.

Their eyes lock, and Sam is overwhelmed with pure need, both to touch and be touched.

He lowers his body and takes both their cocks in his hand. Lightly, reverently, he strokes them together, and rocks his hips.

"What's your fantasy, Dean?" he asks. "What do you always imagine me doing to you?"

"Fucking my mouth."

"Shit," Sam sighs, working the two of them together. He whispers in his brother's ear: "I hope that's what you want right now, because it's what you're about to get."

"Hell yes," Dean moans. 

Sam sits up and pulls Dean's body down to the foot of the bed. Then he straddles Dean's head, facing his body.

Dean opens his mouth wide before Sam can even ask if he's good with this position.

Sam thinks he might just die of happiness as Dean takes his cock and guides it into his mouth. He groans in pleasure as his brother's tongue goes to work, then cuts himself off with swears when Dean takes him deeper.

"Holy shit, Dean," Sam breathes. Familiar, safe  hands on his skin, his cock buried in Dean's throat, he isn't going to last long. He finds himself sliding in a little deeper, fucking his brother's mouth just like he said, balls rubbing against his face. No one's ever taken him like this. He never would have imagined doing this to anyone the first time he was with them, let alone his brother. It's a power play, not something he would ask of anyone unfamiliar to him.

Not that Dean is unfamiliar, but Sam wasn't expecting something like this, his brother submitting his body for Sam's use and loving it.

He can see the glisten of fresh precome on his brother's dick. He wonders what it will be like to have it up his ass, to ride Dean.

"Dean..." he warns, "If you don't want to swallow my come, you better tell me now."

Dean nudges his hips up slightly, no longer deep throating him but putting his attention on the head of Sam's cock while stroking the shaft.

"Oh, fuck, yes, God..." Sam is close, too close. He isn't sure if he's saying any words that make sense, but it feels so good, and then he thinks about pleasuring his brother, about making Dean feel this good. "Fuck!"

As he's about to hit climax, he thrusts, so he tries to move back a little to compensate. Overwhelmed with pleasure, he pulls out farther than he means to. He's too close to do anything about that; with a wordless groan, Sam comes, leaving his brother's tongue and lips dripping white.

When Dean kisses the head, giving the shaft one last stroke, a little more come spills out and Sam moans:

"Dean."

Quick as lightning, Dean grabs the base of his cock like he thinks he'll come untouched.

Sam backs up and sits, looking at his brother.

"Sorry," he pants as soon as his brain is functioning again.

"You can come wherever the hell you want and I'll be into it." Dean very deliberately passes his tongue over his lips. "...You taste good."

Sam sits next to Dean and reaches over to stroke his brother.

"Just let me take care of you," he says.

Dean looks up at him, no attempt to hide his emotions. He's relaxed, happy, trusting, and yes, vulnerable. He wants to be used or pleasured as Sam sees fit, and forget about being tough and decisive.

With his left hand, Sam wipes the come from Dean's face, then offers it to Dean, who happily accepts. He repeats it a couple times until his brother's skin is free of come, and then he changes position, lying next to his brother.

Before he starts to touch Dean again, he kisses him.

"Your mouth is amazing," he informs Dean. "Can't wait to return the favor. I'd suck you off now, but I wanted to see your face the first time I made you come."

"You're not gonna be waiting long," Dean breathes. He exhales sharply. "Almost there."

"...Do you like to be told when to finish?"

Dean nods.

Sam actually moves his hand faster, even as he tells Dean:

"Don't come yet."

Dean doesn't come but he starts to roll his hips like he can't help himself.

"Don't move, and don't come."

"Oh god." Dean closes his eyes as his cock leaks more precome.

Sam feels the most obscene thrill watching his brother try not to fuck his fist.

"Sam..."

"Not yet."

"I can't hold on."

"Yes, you can." Sam kisses his brother again, deeply, until Dean whimpers into his mouth. He pulls back and says, "Now keep your eyes on my face."

"Sammy-"

Sam stops moving his hand entirely, simply holds Dean's hard length.

"Come for me."

Dean doesn't move, doesn't even close his eyes; there's only a twitch in his cock just before Sam feels come running over his fingers.

Dean has the most perfect expression of bliss and adoration as he gazes at his brother, Sam just has to kiss him again. His heart feels somehow both lighter and overfilled with joy at the same time. To see that look on Dean's face, to be the one who put it there—this feels like the ultimate reward.

"That was awesome," Dean whispers, running his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Yeah, it was." Sam would gladly lie there until morning, just being close with Dean, but his hand is covered in come, and so is Dean's dick.

He finds his t-shirt on the floor and cleans up the both of them before reclining again. This time, he pulls Dean into his arms and makes him the little spoon.

As relaxed as Dean was, his body seems even freer of tension after Sam holds him tightly for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry I was a cocktease," Dean says.

"You more than made it up to me."

They're quiet and sleepy for another minute or two, then Sam decides he's cold enough to want to be under the covers. He and Dean manage to position themselves and the blanket comfortably, avoiding the wet spot, and sharing the pillow.

"Hey, Sam?"

"What?"

Sam only understands just how much "Dean Winchester" his brother lets go of during and after sex when he hears something his brother has never said to him in their adult lives:

"I love you."

Sam opens his mouth to respond with dry humor, or even sarcasm, because he's used to matching Dean's aloofness and supposed aversion to "chick-flick moments." He realizes just in time that Dean chose to make himself more vulnerable than ever by putting that out there. His brother is trusting him; he trusts Sam to lead and decide when Dean doesn't want to, to follow when Dean is in control, and to be tender when presented with Dean's heart.

There's only one answer to give, then.

"I love you, too, Dean."

*

When Sam wakes up in the morning, his brother is still there.

Wow, he thinks. Last night was real, _and_ he gets to wake up next to Dean.

A moment later, Dean opens his eyes, but he's not really there.

Sam touches his arm.

"Dean."

There's no response. Sam just waits, rubbing his brother's shoulder lightly. It will pass, and then he'll let Dean be the big brother again.

Finally, Dean really wakes up.

"Hey," Sam greets.

"Hey." Dean looks around, taking in that he's in Sam's room. He nods to himself, giving himself probably the same talk Sam just did: yes, last night happened.

"So, are we gonna keep this a secret?" Sam asks.

"We can try. If people find out, they find out. If they don't like it, we don't need 'em," Dean answers. "We've got each other, same as always."

And there, Sam thinks, is his big brother Dean again.


End file.
